It has taken me awhile to put any thoughts I have about the passing of Travis Heermann in some semblance of order, and I still don’t have all of it the way I want, but I’m going to give this a go.
I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment Travis came into my writing life, because I’d have marked it on a calendar. It just seems he’s always been there. It’s 15 years, at least. I can remember some of the first events we attended together, such as a World Fantasy in San Diego where we went for dinner at Lucha Libre Taco with Betsy Dornbusch and Walter Jon Williams. Or Radcon, as part of the now-defunct “Handsome Authors Society” with James Sams, Peter Wacks, Guy Anthony De Marco, and Tonya DeeMarco. There were countless signings, panels, and writer events, some more successful than others, but always made more fun when Travis was along.
I owe much to him. He joined my writer’s group with some of the people mentioned above, Holly Roberds, and Josh Vogt (later joined Dana Bell, and Ian Brazee-Cannon). He brought a level of critique that I’d not experienced before due to his time in Clarion (or was it Odyssey?) He had critique sheets and everything to counter my Simon Cowell approach to giving feedback. I became a better critiquer because of him, which lead eventually to being a better editor.
But like most who are sharing their experiences, Travis wasn’t satisfied to just be a business acquaintance, moving quickly into friendship (mostly due to how serious I was about the craft, and he liked being around people who took it as seriously as he did). He played as hard as he wrote, with Texas Hold-em poker tournaments, BBQs, and holiday parties, far too many I missed. I have pictures of gatherings at Kevin and Rebecca‘s castle where we come together for a movie or other event. I shared a room with him at Dragoncon, and also shared many scotches with him (none of inferior quality. I think he was the first to introduce me to Writer’s Tears, if memory serves me well).
We talked not only about writing, but filmmaking, a passion for both of us. In fact, we met not too long before his accident to discuss working on something together. Nothing specific, just a general promise to each other to do a project together in the future.
When I built the TOC for my second anthology, “Straight Outta Deadwood,” Travis was on the top of my list. He gave me an amazing weird western set in Deadwood, with zombies and curses and the entire cast of the TV seri, er, I mean, actual historical figures of the time. The man loved to do research, and it showed. He asked me to go over the suggested word count so he could have his third and final qualifying pro sale for SWFA consideration. I was already at budget max, but I found the money to make that goal of his a reality. It was only a small payback for everything he’d done for me, and would still continue to do. He was always willing to sign stacks and stacks of copies of the anthology.
I was excited to watch the courtship of him and Chanel, and even more honored to be invited to their wedding at Red Rocks. I asked him a million questions when they returned from New Zealand. I celebrated with him when Kaylen Helgason got into School of the Arts. He was so proud of them; as proud as any father I’d ever seen. He eyes were always filled with love for his wife, and never dulled over the years. If we were all so lucky.
“Grief lies to us,” as I wrote in an essay. I wanted nothing more than for Travis to return from his accident, even a part, any part, because to not have him in this world seemed too cruel, too dark. Grief told me that this would happen if I just believed enough, prayed enough, held on to the faith enough. That, like so many of the heroes he’d written, he’d rise up against the challenge and surprise us all. Like I said, I was lied to. Not that Travis didn’t fight, but sometimes a gunslinger knows when it’s time to lay down your sidearms and rest. Travis knew that.
Letting him go wasn’t an easy decision for his family and friends, because who among us doesn’t want to see his mischievous smile as he pulls out a flask and offers it to you once more? I got to drink from his flask for the last time at Superstars in Feb 11th, 2023 (a date I do remember). I took only a small sip, as I usually did, since I barely drink anymore; really, just a taste of what he’d come to share with us, but it was enough. I got to share something special with my peer, my author, and my friend, not knowing it’d be the last.
And as always, it was exceptional.
Goodbye, Travis. May the sun never set on this new journey you’ve started before us, and I hope we meet somewhere again down the trail.
DB
04/29/24